


The house at the top of the hill

by maybeillride



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Check her out! :), Falling in love with a ghost is a drag, For the sweet Irish_Cupcake, Gen, I look fwd to your strongly-worded letters lol, M/M, Sorry I offed Haru but it's less-awful than it sounds, Very unclear if this is a sad or a happy or a ? story, haunted house au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeillride/pseuds/maybeillride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“…I – I’m so, so happy to see you again,” Makoto gets out in a hurried whisper, and the boy stays turned to the window. “I know it’s crazy, we just – just came the other day to like ‘investigate’ your house and see what it was like, and I’m so sorry about that! I so hope we didn’t disturb you!”</p><p>…and the boy is turning.</p><p>Turning to him, and Makoto can see nothing but those blue eyes again, they’re gazing so serenely up at him and the boy hasn’t said a word – Makoto isn’t even sure he can say a word – but Makoto can’t go on anyway, staring into those calm blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The house at the top of the hill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Irish_Cupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irish_Cupcake/gifts).



> Hello gang! This odd little supernatural love story (???) is a well-deserved gift for the incredibly talented and sweet Irish_Cupcake, who writes so vividly it's like you're dreaming it, draws like a manga-doujinshi pro, and is the dictionary-definition of "enthusiastic". I encourage you to give her page a visit!!
> 
> I also have to give props to the talented Jeylup, whose lovely "gushing gold" story (featuring a ghost-Haru) I was probably subconsciously channelling when I dreamed this up ;)

“Why. What is this obsession with getting me as scared as possible?” Makoto asks his friends. His hand creeps down again to the waistband of his legskins. In the back, where none of them can see what he does, as he and his friends linger in the showers after practice and he leans casually up against the school wall. His long fingers restlessly run over the rough part of the elastic, over and over and over, totally mindless. Almost enough to keep his mind off what they’re talking about.

Almost.

“Oh my GOD, Mako-chan. Do you even have to ask? Come on!” Nagisa rolls his eyesand ducks under the showerhead, scrubbing his head furiously. Makoto is assaulted by his signature scent of strawberries and carefully slides further down the wall to get out of range.

“Makoto-senpai … if this is really something you don’t want to do, I don’t think we should force you. People should never be pressured into things they don’t want. It’s the best way to get them to resent something.” Rei’s already showered – like Makoto – and stands facing his two swim-club members, arms crossed primly on his chest.

“…oh my GOD Rei-chan…” Nagisa flips off his water, then grabs his towel and points at Makoto, and the team captain’s reflexive smile freezes in place. “We’re doing it. Meet at your place tomorrow night at ten.” He pats Makoto’s chest indulgently with a wet hand. “Trust me! It’ll be so _good_ for you.” Rei just looks at him with almost-embarrassing sympathy. And his two underclassmen wait for him, expectantly.

“Ugh, okay, okay. We’ll do it.” He swallows hard, hopes it isn’t too obvious to either of his teammates. He flicks his head towards the pool behind the fence, where now that the shower’s off they hear the steady sound of someone swimming laps. “You guys go on ahead, I’ll let him know.”

“You won’t regret this,” Nagisa tells him seriously, then ruins it by cracking a huge grin. “C’mon Rei-chan, let’s see if we can still make the 5:00 train. My mom said she was making onigiri.” He hurries into the changing room; Rei pauses before following.

“We’ll have a good time, Makoto-senpai! If nothing else it’ll be interesting,” he says, and Makoto’s oddly touched by just how _hard_ he’s trying.

He smiles, a real smile this time, and Rei’s smile back is big and relieved and genuine too. “Thanks, Rei. Better hurry, I don’t want you missing out on that onigiri!”

Rei makes a little face – so that’s how good Nagisa’s mom’s cooking is, eh? – but disappears inside anyway.

Makoto heads back to the pool, rounds the fence. The relentless splashing goes on – the rhythmic splish-splish of his arms, paired with the constant churn of his flutter-kick – and Makoto knows there’s no point telling him to get out: once he’s doing freestyle, he’ll go for hours.

He comes to the end of the pool, crouches down, waits until the muscular body comes crawling along to him. Once he’s almost at the wall, Makoto leans over and smacks his head. He comes up spluttering before he can flip-turn again.

“… _really,_ Makoto?? Do you _mind??_ I was in the zone!” Rin yells at him, between coughs, and Makoto rolls his eyes.

“Oh, come on, Rin. You’re gonna get trenchfoot or something if you don’t stop! Seriously,” he tries for lightness, but can’t keep himself from sounding worried. Rin just scowls as he treads to keep afloat. “And hey! I gotta tell you anyway. So we’re all meeting at my place tomorrow night at ten.” He actively doesn’t picture what he’s saying. “We’re gonna finally go check out that house at the top of the hill – the one that’s been abandoned for years. See if it’s actually haunted.”

Rin drops his scowl so fast it’d be funny if Makoto were less scared; his eyes widen and a big goofy grin blooms on his face. “No way. So when’d you grow a _backbone,_ Makoto?” He shoves a modest little tidal wave over and Makoto falls back, yelping.

“So when’d you grow _up,_ Rin? Wait – oh yeah – never,” he counters, taking a chance and leaning to smack his head again, and Rin howls and isn’t so careful with his splash this time.

*

It’s a wet walk home, wet and chilly with the unexpectedly cool breeze off the ocean; and Makoto shivers, picks up his pace. He whistles a stupid little song that’s been stuck in his head all day as he walks; he glances down at his big feet as they hit the pavement; but mostly he just gazes out to the ocean, keeping a carefully-measured distance from the water. The dying waves seem to hiss at him, as they retreat back again and again across the sand.

His stomach is rumbling loudly as he finally reaches his stairs, and he leaps up two-by-two …

…then stops.

He pauses, still, almost unable to move, as he freezes in the turn for home, the stairs leading up to the abandoned house stretching away above him. He blinks, the risers blurring and almost melting together at the very top, making it seem like the hill is stretching away from him.

Makoto turns away, slowly, heading for home.

*

“Going for a run!” Makoto softly calls at his parents’ closed bedroom door a few minutes to ten, and obediently waits to hear an equally-soft “Alright, dear – be careful!”

He knew his little cover story wouldn’t raise any questions. His parents have been smiling, lately, to see him head out the door in his nylon track pants, t-shirts, after the heat of the day had passed; they told him again and again how proud they were he was trying so hard in swim club, even though Makoto knows it’s no big deal, will probably go nowhere….

He closes the front door carefully, waiting to be sure there’s no _snick_ of the latch; then hurries down his stairs wondering _why_ he’s hurrying. _I’m heading for my own execution here – shouldn’t I be stalling…?_ he thinks distantly, but then it’s too late; he’s turned the corner and there they are.

“Hey! Mako-chan!” Nagisa grins up at him – and he’s being quiet too, whether to stick to this story they’re all working or because the kamikaze-blond is actually uneasy himself, Makoto isn’t sure. He grabs Makoto’s forearm and squeezes as he comes up to join the three of them, waiting at the foot of the steep staircase.

“Hey. You guys are right on time – sheesh, you wanna do this _this_ bad?” Makoto asks with fake cheer, and Rin grins his bizarre shark-grin, punches Makoto (too hard) in the shoulder.

“Damn, Makoto, I couldn’t think of anything else all day. Why did we never do this before!”

“Probably because as breaking and entering, it’s technically illegal, Rin-senpai,” Rei notes, and Rin sweeps a scowl over.

“I know that! Do I look stupid to you, ButterflyBoy?”

Rei pushes his glasses up, totally unthreatened. “Not at all! I’m just not surprised we haven’t attempted this yet, given that none of us have criminal records and usually, that’s the thing most likely to predict if someone is gonna engage in illegal behavior –”

Makoto can’t stand a minute more of this. “ _God!_ Are we doing this or not??”

The team all shuts up, Rin and Rei quitting their stupid little bickering, Nagisa just gazing up at him. “Yeah, Mako-chan. Let’s do this thing,” the little blond finally says, and there’s a collective stare around, and all the funny seems to have drained from the air … leaving behind – this tight tension. Or maybe that’s just in Makoto’s chest.

Wordlessly, they turn and climb the stairs, Rei and Rin in front with Nagisa still holding Makoto’s arm in the rear … and he wants to turn to his friend, snap at him to let go, he’s fine; but at the same time, the grip on his arm is comforting, maybe the only thing keeping his feet going as the house bobs into view.

 _Nanase,_ reads the weathered wooden sign leaning at the side of the front gate, and it’s in such poor shape it’s hard to even make that out. And Makoto is hit with an unexpected stab of feeling, seeing that lonely old sign, that the family who lived here nailed beside the gate so many years ago. It’s just – so sad. Thinking they’d be there forever, they’d be _happy,_ gazing out at the bay from their spot at the top of the hill, heading down every day to go to work, to walk their kids to school (…?). Growing old there, watching their grandkids fly kites in the backyard (?). All the normal things _people_ did, to feel alive.

And now their vacant house sat alone and abandoned, just an old sign to tell the world who used to live there, with a bunch of stupid high school kids coming on a dare its only visitor.

“…Mako-chan? You okay?” Nagisa’s asking, his voice way too soft and careful for the situation, as he looks up at Makoto. He blinks down at his shorter friend, glances up to see Rin trying the door while Rei stands worriedly to the side.

Makoto shakes his head. “Mmm. Just – thinking. C’mon, let’s … let’s go before Rin – trips some booby-trap or something.” The new possibility gets him rushing forward – almost running – to stop the redhead.

“Ahhh don’t get your panties in a bunch, Makoto. It’s locked up tight anyway,” Rin says, and he _sounds_ deeply disappointed but Makoto thinks it’s relief on his face, and he understands. But something is dragging Makoto away, _diverting_ him around the side of the house, before he even knows what he’s doing.

“Hey…! What the hell, Makoto!” he hears Rin behind him, and he’s at a back door, weathered and chipped against his hand, and it – _pushes easily to the side_ as Makoto tries it.

He squeaks faintly.

Nagisa’s first to catch up to him and blinks. “Holy _shit,_ Makoto. How – how did you do that?? How did you know it’d be open?”

“I … I don’t know,” Makoto answers distantly, taking a sleepwalker’s step inside.

It’s … _hot._ Hot and musty; he’s instantly happy no one in their group has asthma or bad allergies to dust or anything, because it’s just – _awful_ in here. Hot, and dark; sure, it’s ten o’clock at night, but it’s too dark even for that, the shutters all must be closed, or something…

He moves further in, hesitantly, Nagisa glued to his side and Rei and Rin pushing-in close behind. “Ugh, it smells like death in here,” Rin whispers.

They shuffle through the back hall, glancing uneasily around at the discolored spots on the walls that must’ve had pictures on them, ears straining for any sounds … but it’s just their feet on the groaning wood floor, their breathing too-loud and gusting over each other.

“…Living room and kitchen,” Makoto mutters, guiding their little knot through a half-open door and into two connected rooms, wondering how in the _hell_ he ended up leading this stupid little expedition…? But something is pulling him, something is moving his feet, and they stop in the big, empty living room.

It’s so quiet, as they pause to listen again, by some weird unspoken agreement holding their breath. Rin is the first to break, drifting to a set of sliding doors along one wall, grunting as he tries to push them open – but they’re stuck, or nailed-shut, it seems.

Then Makoto smells it.

“…do you guys… do you guys smell that?” he asks, wonderingly, the aroma flowing from the kitchen and into the living room, rich, oily. He feels his mouth water … though he’s never liked … whatever _it_ is before.

“Smell…?” Nagisa and Rei exchange a worried look he can read perfectly in the darkness. “I don’t think we can smell anything, Mako-chan. Unless you mean the mouse-pee,” Nagisa says seriously.

“No, no! It’s fish! Like, someone’s _cooking_ it!” Makoto stops, searching his memory for _what_ fish has that signature smell, so excited when he gets it he snaps his fingers. “Mackerel! That’s it! You can’t tell me you don’t smell that!”

Rei comes up to feel his forehead. “Makoto-senpai … you know, olfactory hallucinations can be a sign of migraines coming on … how’s your head? Do you feel alright?” He makes to hold the arm Nagisa doesn’t already have a death-grip on but Makoto’s suddenly off, shaking them both away and lurching out of the room to incoherent sounds of surprise behind him.

He’s up a set of stairs before he even has time to worry that they’re safe to climb, storming past rooms on either side of a hallway without a second look – and shoving through the last doorway on the right, a tattered curtain fluttering around his head.

It’s a bathroom. There’s light filtering in from the uncovered window above a tub against the wall, fluttering in uneasy flickers of black and orange as the wind blows the trees outside.

Falling on a teenaged boy.

He’s just lying in the empty tub, head tipped back like he’s asleep, his over-long black hair falling behind him. He’s … _beautiful._ Naked, pale, so pale he’s as white as the porcelain that he rests on, that he stretches his arms over. And his face is so calm as he lies there, black lashes dark against his unnaturally-white cheeks, pale lips closed, narrow chest still. Makoto waits in the doorway, eyes pinned to that chest like something fundamental depends on it … and the boy’s chest stays still.

Then Makoto’s moving again without knowing why, hurrying forward the few steps that bring him to the side of the tub – and leaning over, holding out a shaking hand.

“…h-hi! Can – can I help you up?” he asks the beautiful boy, then feels his entire face flush at his sheer stupidity, because what the _hell_ was he doing?

But the boy turns…

Sits up…

Opens his eyes and gazes up at him…

And Makoto is lost. Lost, in blue, blue, _blue._

And feels a firm coolness settle and squeeze around his fingers as the boy stands, easily, leans to him –

“ _Makoto!!”_ Rin. Frantic, screaming; joined by the general chaos of pounding feet and Rei yelling “Makoto-senpai!!” and Makoto stumbles back to meet their terrified stares as they push in the doorway –

And flips back to the tub, to find the boy gone.

“Did – !! Did…” Makoto begins, staring down at the empty tub… still feeling cool fingers wrapped around his. Still seeing BLUE as he flutters his eyes shut.

Then he’s tackled in a violent hug, arms wrapping fiercely around and Nagisa’s head rubbing between his shoulderblades. “Mako-chan … let’s get outta here, huh? We – we can say we did it now, we went in the haunted house! Cross it off the bucket list! So … so you guys wanna go to my place instead? Play video games?”

He hears Rin and Rei agreeing heartily behind him, and turns reluctantly to face his friends … dusty, sweaty, wide-eyed. He swallows. “Sure, Nagisa,” he says slowly, and they smile at him, and it’s like the tension that settled around them at the foot of the stairs outside is blown away. They joke and laugh and catcall at each other as they file out, but Makoto notes how much of a hurry they’re in…

And how much he’d rather stay.

*

Makoto dreams of the boy that night.

They’re sitting together, side-by-side on the back porch of the house, and it’s a summer day. Hot. The porch roof gives them shade as they gaze lazily out onto a backyard, a space that’s lush with magnolias and morning glories, the colors unnaturally bright. They’re sharing a blue popsicle, almost but not quite as blue as the boy’s eyes, and Makoto’s mouth is filled with cold and sweet as he glances over next to him.

At this beautiful boy, in an orange shirt that’s way too big for him and Makoto _knows_ is borrowed, is _Makoto’s_ shirt, as this boy looks up nonchalantly sucking on his blue popsicle and raises his dark brows in a question.

And Makoto is laughing at him, for some reason, tilting in to hold the back of his head as the boy raises his face expectantly. Closes those _blue_ eyes.

Makoto wakes up then, before they can kiss, if that’s what they were going to do. He stares up at his dark ceiling and wipes away tears from the sides of his face.

*

Makoto pauses at his parents’ bedroom door, listening intently for the sounds of the newspaper rustling, his dad laughing at something. He calls softly, “Going for a run!” and waits long enough to hear their sleepy assent.

Then he creeps into the kitchen, eases the cupboard under the sink open; slides out the bucket of cleaning supplies, rags. Gets a long-handled duster from the hook in the kitchen closet.

The Nanases’ house feels different tonight, somehow … and Makoto doesn’t know if _it’s_ different, if it’s something about coming alone, or if _he’s_ the one who’s changed. He pauses after letting himself in the back door, feeling momentarily insane, then calls out to the empty house. “…Hello! I’m – I’m just here to clean the place up a bit. I was here before – and, and it was so good to meet you!! Please! Please, don’t be afraid of me, or angry!” His voice shakes and the house is still again when he’s done.

Makoto gets to work, trying hard not to think about what he’s doing – _cleaning an abandoned house??_ – but just throwing himself into each step. He muscles-open the windows, first step when he gets in each room; he’s pleased to find they aren’t nailed shut, but were just stuck from disuse, and is surprised how much better each space feels when that’s done, how much more _alive._ Dense summer air moves lazily in, carrying the sounds of cars passing far below down the hill, as he moves his duster around, uncovers burnished wood floors. He’s done downstairs much faster than he expects and walks quietly around, pleased at how much more _homelike_ the place feels, even in obvious disrepair, even as bare and empty as a fresh grave.

Blinking at the thought, he grabs his supplies, pauses at the foot of the stairs.

Thinks _blue._

“I’m … I’m coming up! Please – don’t be scared!” he calls again. Hoping – _wishing_ somehow he might see the unexpected vision of the boy again, the boy who makes no logical sense and shouldn’t exist and _doesn’t_ exist but _held Makoto’s hand._

…but the bathroom is silent, and cold somehow even in the summer heat, and empty; and Makoto’s hopes die, burning away to nothing, leaving him feeling stupid and crazy. He heads in anyway, figuring the – the _boy_ must like this space, and pays it particular attention, making one pass with the duster, another with a rag and cleaner. He smiles at the shining tub despite the ache in his heart, in his sore back and knees. The place looks wonderful … like someone lives here.

He gets his stuff together again and looks across the hall, a breeze drifting through the partway-open door and making him frown. How was a window already open up here? _He_ hadn’t done it yet…

Makoto pushes the door open to reveal a darkened room, empty as all the others. A window is wide open on the other side of the room.

The boy stands, naked as before, looking out.

Makoto is hurrying to him, dropping the cleaning stuff as he goes, his eyes sweeping restlessly over black hair and the fine narrow trapezoid of his turned back and the row of his vertebrae marching down, to his rounded ass, his slim, long legs. Hands resting on the windowsill, gazing out, giving no sign he hears as Makoto stops behind him, close enough to touch.

“…I – I’m so, so happy to see you again,” he gets out in a hurried whisper, and the boy stays turned to the window. “I know it’s crazy, we just – just came the other day to like ‘investigate’ your house and see what it was like, and I’m so sorry about that! I so hope we didn’t disturb you!”

…and the boy is turning.

Turning to him, and Makoto can see nothing but those _blue eyes_ again, they’re gazing so serenely up at him and the boy hasn’t said a word – Makoto isn’t even sure he _can_ say a word – but Makoto can’t go on anyway, staring into those calm blue eyes.

The boy steps forward, so close their bodies almost touch, and Makoto’s heart stutters. He tilts his head up with that same almost questioning look – not a smile, not a frown, but this … _tell me more. Talk to me more._

So Makoto blunders on, hands dangling limply at his sides, the _boy_ tilting his head curiously to the other side. “You – you live here, huh! I, I was so sorry to see your family’s sign falling down outside. Nanase, right? I – I’m Tachibana Makoto. What – what’s your name?” And is filled with searing embarrassment again, because this … this creature, this _vision_ who hadn’t spoken to him yet surely wasn’t going to start now, in some ridiculous “me-Tarzan you-Jane” moment. But the boy steps still closer, then, when Makoto didn’t know they _could_ get closer – wraps cool arms around his waist – rests his cheek on Makoto’s chest, seemingly unbothered by the rapid rate of rise and fall.

And Makoto decides on the spot that names are totally irrelevant.

*

The breeze flutters the corner of his notebook as Makoto writes; he has to keep absentmindedly pushing it down with each gust just to have it fly up again. He taps his pen to his puckered lips, going over what he has so far.

_Air mattress (full-size)._

_Sleeping bag._

_Lantern._

_Camp stove._

_Cooler._

He pauses, and seized by inspiration scrawls _Mackerel._

The door to the roof bangs, and a shadow falls over him, but he’s so caught-up in what he’s doing it barely registers. “Mako-chan! What are you writing?” Nagisa demands, scooting in at his side against the wall. He’s unwrapping his bento without waiting for a reply.

“Oh …. Nothing, Nagisa.” Makoto smiles faintly, curling a hand carefully over the page. “Just making a shopping list.”

**Author's Note:**

> ....ahhh, poor Haru-chan, poor Mako-chan :/ ;). I always get a weird enjoyment out of speculating what Makoto's life, outlook would've been like without his Haru around, and in this case he ends up ... more cynical, and a LOT more anxious. So the thought was this - what if he found a weird *calm* when he set foot in that abandoned old house, something his friends weren't at all feeling, something confirmed as soon as he met GhostHaru's eyes?
> 
> Irish_Cupcake (aka Sweets) was hoping for something scary, which clearly this is NOT. But I hope you all were left at least feeling ... unsure. Is it OKAY that Makoto is feeling this weirdo connection to this dead kid? Having these vivid (...past-life??) dreams about him? Getting ready to set-up a covert "2nd home" at the Nanases', with unclear hopes and intentions? (He may just be wanting to be a friend to a lonely ghost. He may be up for full-on boyfriend action - ??? It's hard to say...)
> 
> Please let me know what you think! And THANK YOU so much for reading <3 :)


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